Superheroes inspire us all,
superheroes make us marvel.
Superheroes are adored
from Beijing to Washington D.C.

But superheroes don't wear capes,
they wear a '96 Olympic shirt
and loose-fitting pants
you would never catch me in.

They don't have x-ray vision,
they've worn glasses
for as long as you remember.
They cannot fly,
and yet they seem larger than life.

They never seem to lie,
and they still say "I love you"
in the exact same way
almost sixty years after they bound it to eternity.

They don't have super-strength,
but they are your super strength
and they lift you up
until you can do it on your own.

They seem invincible,
but life has a way of reminding you
that even Superman has Kryptonite.

They are stubbornly steady
even when the bill of health
isn't clean.
Just as they are your strength,
you feel your aching mortality
when you find out
even superheroes get cancer.

Yet somehow,
after their greatest battle is fought,
there they are in all that remains
spreading an unyielding light
upon whoever sees them soaring by.


We wear an "S", a bat,
or even a spider
to pretend that we are our heroes
and emulate their image;
but I won't wear that old shirt,
or those terrible, worn-in jeans.
Instead,
I'll harness that unbreakable spirit,
and maybe one day
I'll be a superhero too.

Freedom to express
The reality of art,
Fantasy of life.

So alluring,
the way the dark spreads itself
across a sea of shining stars
and makes us forget the infinities we haven’t seen.
I question myself
and I think about how the starlight we see
is a gift from centuries ago.
I’m alive in the dark.
I’m lethargic in the light.
And yet the darkest corners of my imagination
are the places I dread the most.

I’m alone in the light.
I’m a force in the dark.
My wrists tremble at the thought of
another night of telling stories
with ambiguous intent
and metaphors that strike my knees -
bow to the dark -
and yet I’m the only fool who reads my words.

The gift of the dark
is the great balance of life;
when time is stuck in one end of the dichotomy,
these little spots of grey pour out over the blue in my eyes.

And as the colors are muffled
like the road workers
covering up an artist’s graffiti,
I begin to understand why there’s two sides to a coin.

I’m alive in the dark,
tired in the light,
and the shadows of the night have become my favorite audience.

"You are one in a million."
                                            - Then you realize
                                               that means there must be
                                               THOUSANDS
Just.
                               Like.
                                                           ­          You.

So you worry,
You fret,
You wonder
What it takes to
stand                                                         ­                                                 apart.
Youtrythi­ngsyouwouldnototherwise.
U do thingz you can never 4get;

                                                          ­                           All just to be
                                                              ­                                              original.

You write and profess
about matters you hardly understand.

You torture yourself
to
s            t              r             e              t                c                      h
your limits.

You educate yourself
So to think
Like no one el$e ha$.

You adopt strange habits
In fluctuating,
                                                    ­                                        foreign
                 ­                         accommodations.
Then you
                                  r                  m       ­                                  e
                                               u                             l
                          c                                    ­       b
when it all
                   slips...
                                            
           ­                                                                 ­        You almost feel
                                                            ­                                 Original.


                                                     ­                       ...away...        


You change your name,
Take on a new identity-
One like they've never seen.
Bleach your personality
And sulk behind lifeless, purple hair-
Garishly placed among a black and white world-
While inhaling toxic fantasies
That suffocate-
No, wait, perhaps they liberate-
Those things that make you feel
alive
and unique.

                                                        ­                                 You are the Original.

You are unlike any force ever know. You are the thunder's roar and the wolf's howl.
But you can't shake this ominous feeling:

                                         *You've become unoriginal

How could you ever love me to death?
What a morbid thought to think!

But if you ever attempt such a thing,
I'll love you back for being so crazy
because I'm kinda crazy,
and somewhere along all of that crazy,
well,
Perhaps I might die.

And even then,
I'll cry in my eternal sleep
Knowing one day you'll fall in love again
While I still love you
as the sky soars above you.

Whether the rain pours,
hail falls,
and mud seeps inside my shoes,
I always walk.

Whether there's a better,
easier way
to reach where I'm trying to go,
I always walk.

Whether there are hands extended
or faceless shame,
ever since the age of three
I always walk.

Whether you care,
whether the wind is at my back,
I've never been carried,
I always walk.

Even when my mother cries,
even if my father dies,
if my children are my own,
they will walk
close behind.

Whether love
or pollen
pollutes the air
and my red eyes can no longer see,
I will always walk.

Whether the song I sing
is one that you know,
or one that you don't care to hear,
I always walk.

Cars go rushing by,
people pass in silence.
Like the potholes you swerve to avoid,
I persist.

I fell once;
I crawled and begged for a hand,
but I was held down and convinced
I would never walk again.



Then I stood;
On that day,
with vindication in the breath I exhaled,
I swore to always walk -
and even God took note.